Caffeinated Copywriter

Yesterday morning a job post came across my LinkedIn feed.  "Content Marketing Specialist" it read.  I was good fit for the position—the right number of years shouldering the plow, the right industry experience (or patience if you look at it right), the right amount of bloated self-importance.  Like any good online-job-hunting millennial, I updated my portfolio materials and other application documents and clicked 'Submit.' The proper pixels were on their way, my coffee was fresh and the Louisiana humidity outside had not yet caused an uncomfortable sticky sweat. All was well, but as I closed all the pdf, indd, jpg, ai, doc windows, I panicked.  I felt something close to an excavator digging a bottomless pit in my chest.  A single glance at my pandered "Skills" section revealed the error. "Coversation Design for AI" Yes, feel free to face-palm. Make sure you strike with the whole palm not just the soft, cushiony parts. Get those call

The devil is a salesman. For a time he was limited to carnivalesque used car lots. Sometimes you would see him screaming on a billboard or hear him calling at all hours of the night blasting 1-800 numbers. On occasion he might even stroll right up to your front door and knock twice. But now he is everywhere; streaming his way into our homes. Worse–into our brains. Five seconds here, thirty seconds there is all it takes. There is nowhere he can’t be, and he cannot be turned off. The sad truth of it is, he didn’t barge into our lives. We welcomed him with open palms. We welcomed him with the promise of high-speed connectivity. We welcomed him with the promise of photo feeds. We welcomed him with the promise of on-demand food delivery. We welcomed him with the promise of binge-watching twelve seasons. We welcomed him with pay-per-clicks and hashtags. We carry him to work, to home, to school, to parties and to plays right in our very po

Keys. Tapping. Ticking. No padlock No codes. Clicking. Clacking. Keys. Pattering. Pittering. No chains. No binds. Rittling. Rattling. Keys. Chattering. Chittering No door. No box. Knicking. Knacking. Keys. Flattering. Fluttering. Words sprawling out. Words flooding in. Keys. Fleeting.

America. Your soil Your boots Your dirt Your towers Your mud Your dream America. You’re pride You’re shame You’re beauty You’re blame You’re loud You’re brokenhearted America. Your time. You're ticking. Make it count.

Rolling between orange monoliths, Garden of the Gods is a passage.  Entrance and exit become one in the same.  Time and place become more distant.  One look at the surrounding sizes and shapes and it’s easy to see why there is a spiritual connection here. For Apache, Comanche and Lakota native peoples, for pioneers of the early American West and for the number of tourists like myself just driving through, there is serenity and humility in the face of the chaotic balance of boulder, tree and sand.  Across the expanse of the park the land rises and falls, crests and troughs like the fin or backbone of some great underwater beast breaking the surface.  Towers of crimson rock, shields of scarlet stone and amber-colored giants seem to guard the park as if protecting the lost garden of Eden.  Delicate and strong, each massive upheaval reaches higher to the heavens, upward in a series of red spires that resemble something more Martian that Earthen. Standing in

Volume. Mass. Frequency. No this isn't a physics or math lesson. I'm not qualified to teach either of those subjects. If you came looking for lessons in those subjects you'd be better off clicking  here . Those three words lay the blueprint for success by content consumption takeover. The gobbledygook gambit of motivational speakers, cryptocurrency investors, business growth consultants, ebook entrepreneurs and lifestyle influencers tell us that happiness and success is the byproduct of creating content at all costs. No amount of noise is off limits. More clicks will lead to better cliques. Your truth is the only thing that matters, not THE truth. These people seem to think that success is something you can achieve with the grace of a running back trucking over defensive backs in the open field. See Marshawn Lynch for reference. You know which speaker/motivator/salespersons I'm talking about.  Look, I'll be honest. There are times when I

Monday morning. Whizzing fantastic blur of cars Destination pre-determined Motivation un-motivated Bitter, coffee-fueled rage of road Emails, texts, calls, calendars Punch in to punch A ticket to anywhere else 9 a.m.

Let me tell you a sad story. You might not see a more downtrodden group of individuals than advertising professionals arriving to work at 8am in a torrential downpour. Think shivering wet puppy meets dreary windblown shack. It is the feeling of room temperature coffee. As the morning continues, the deluge lingers and the smaller the umbrella (or lack thereof) the more waterlogged the employee. We're in the middle of a three days long thunderstorm. It's "flood season" as they call it here in Louisiana—when all the snowmelt and runoff from northern rivers snake their way to the Gulf, filling our canals, bayous, swamps, backwaters and byways to the brim. The Mississippi River also happens to sit presently at a 100 year high; forcing the flood to bubble up on streets all over town. Trapped inside our air-conditioned and bucolic solarium of an office, accounts and creative feel the fleeting nature of forecast meetings and whiteboard exercises. The soak on our c

Where to begin? Is this a fresh start? Or am I starting something fresh? "Be a better writer by writing," they say. So here we go. A start of something new–for me, for you. This is a chance to share my thoughts. I'm not so worried about the hard-hitting issues of the day, or voicing my grievances on the banality of modern advertising. You won't find an utterance of the word wanderlust here either. Be warned: I'm not writing to teach you how to get rich quick. As a matter of fact, I'm not writing to make you feel anything. This is for me. But you are invited to tag along. See or read something you don't like? Well there's a charming little 'x' button in the corner of your screen exactly for that reason. At the present (and most definitely in the future) I'm more interested in the gurgling pot of coffee that's brewing in the kitchen than your opinion. Like the title of this blog suggests.